"Patient 13" [Oliver Thredson X Reader]

Chapter 4: "Another Daily Tuesday"

The Year is 1964, Spring, Briarcliff Manor at Massachusetts

Miss [L/N] POV

          As the gaurd dragged me back to my prison that I have now started to call my new "home". I could not help, but feel this feeling of safety and comfort with him. It did not make sense. I barely knew this Doctor Thredson guy. I literally just met him today. Why would I?! Of all people?! Feel safe near some stranger I saw in the lobby for 10 mins and now a 45 minute session.
          "Ow!" I yelled loudly as the same gaurd who dragged me out of my cell like I was some old mutt, was now tossing me back in as if I was a mutt who had misbehaved.
          "Oh, quite your whining! I didn't throw you THAT hard!" the same gaurd scoffed at me.
          "Would you throw your wife like this you asshole?" I grunted under my breath while rubbing the back my head. I could feel my [H/C] staring to get really dry and in need of a decent grooming. I slumped down, my back on the cold cracked cobblestone wall.
          I knew in 10 minutes they would send me off to "lounging" room where we can sit on chair and play board games while the same song "Dominique" by French singer Jennine Deckers played on a constant loop till it drives us all to insanity. I swear that's what they are trying to do. I can't count how many times I wanted to smash that record or scream change the song. Supposedly they keep it on because they don't want to "taint" our "fragile" minds with stuff from the outside world, as if we aren't already tainted enough. Stupid b!tches. That's really what they are.
          I decided to sit on the couch nearest to the door where Sister Jude usually likes to enter through so she can crash the ongoing "party". While I sat here with one arm leaning against the right side of the old worn down couch arm rest, I could not stop myself from thinking about my session today with Dr. Thredson, my apparent new therapist. There was just something about him I found comforting and enticing. I felt this sense of safety and security which I have not felt in such a long time.
          It was almost as if I was able to connect with him on this spiritual level that I didn't even know I had. It felt strange, but not a bad strange. This does not mean I'm going to spill my guts on the floor to him. I literally just met this strange guy today. I would need to get to know him more and try to figure him out a bit the same way he is trying to figure me out.
          Despite him looking young he acted as if he had dealt with many patients similar to me time and time again. I find that odd because I've been to so many shrinks who looked have decades of experience with therapy based on their age and not a single one of them knew what they were doing or how to help me. They just shoved pills down my throat thinking that was cure to all my issues and if the dosage they gave me didn't help, they would increase it. It was like putting a bandaid on a bullet wound. Insanity!

         Creeaaakkkk - Slam!

          "Good afternoon everyone, it is time for your second round of medication. Please make sure you swallow and don't give me a hard time or else I will have to call for Sister Jude." The Med Guy states formally and strictly to us. He literally says the same speech everyday three times a day. The only thing that changes is what time of the day he decides to greet us by.
 

      I've always found a way to avoid swallowing those "zombie pills" as I would call them. That shit literally turns your brain into vegetable and to be honest I believe that is definitely part of their secret plan as well. When the Med Guy finally gets to me I grab my pills, put them in my mouth but hide them under my tongue. I open up my mouth so he knows I ate them and then as he walks away I grab a paper towelette and spit the pills into them and throw them away with none being of the wiser. This process repeats itself every day multiple times a day.
          As I sat there looking around the room in my usual spot I was taking notice and analyzing all the people around me. I loved to pick apart people and break them down, so I could get a better understanding of them as a person. Even the tiniest of details I will notice. I guess being the quiet one of the group does have its perks.
          My eyes were fixated on Pepper as she was slumped over by the window. She is a microcephalic and definitely someone people judge immediately at first site. If anyone didn't know her better, they could easily pin murder on her. The same way her sister Rita and her husband did by claiming Pepper drowned her baby and chopped its ears off. This I found so hard to believe because having spoken to Pepper I could tell she means no harm and if anyone deserves to be here, it's Rita and her husband.
          I give sympathetic look to Pepper and look to Grace Bertrand, probably my only other friend around here besides Kit Walker whihc I will get too. Grace is an immigrant from France and was accused of axing her whole family up. I don't believe this one bit after taking the time to know her. A very down to earth and chill as heck. Shes also a very talented artist if I may add.
          After watching Grace for awhile and she gives me a nod my eyes then glance over to see Shelly who has been diagnosed with Nymphomaniac and tends to get called the whore around here due to her backstory on why she is here. Her husband who was a bass player cheated on her and of course he expected little Miss Shelly to be ok with that like some idiot, but she obviously wasn't so, she ended up cheating on him with two Navy Sailors. Her now ex-husband found out he had her admitted to here. She literally wants to screw everyone in this room and I wouldn't be surprised if she already has screwed 90% of us.
          After Shelly gives me a quick eye glance I then turn my head towards Charlotte Brown who I don't know if she is on some kind of crack meds or if there's some truth to her accusation. To give you a brief rundown, Charlotte claims to be a Holocaust victim who knows something about Dr. Ardens past. Insisting that he was a Nazi Dr named Dr. Hans Grüper. She also has a husband apparently, how anyone can be with her beats me.
          Anyway, moving on. My eyes then land on Kit Walker who has been "convicted" with killing his own wife Alma and several other women. Many people are calling him the infamous "Bloody Face" killer that has been going around killing and skinning women. I swear the people here are stupid; thinking this scrawny man is the ONE and ONLY Bloody Face. It is quite obvious Kit was framed with the murders of Bloody Face. I give him a quick sympathetic look letting him know I understand before turning away.
          My eyes then gaze over to who is sitting in front of him on one of the old wooden oak folding chairs with her legs crossed and wearing an expression of pure annoyance. Lana Winters. She had the same look she would always have when were together. A look as if somone shoved a ten foot stick up her royal behind. She used to be interviewer who wrote articles and stuff. We moved to Briarcliff because Lana wanted to interview the one and only "Bloody Face" which I have come to learn is supposedly Kit Walker. She wanted to get some info for the new book she was attempting to write. Lana blames me for the reason we are in here, but I know the real reason why.
          I can remember it like it was yesterday. Lana was going off on her usual tangent about how much of a worthless pile of trash I was and that my anxiety and depression is my fault, and how it's time I start to grow a pair. I tried to get her to calm down because I was able to sense the neighbors were catching on to the yelling since it tend to happen every day now. Lana used to throw her fits very rarely, but it then became a daily thing pretty quickly after we moved into the new house.
          Well, as I was saying, eventually I started to tune her out and I don't know how many minutes want by before I heard the police sirens from the distance and that's when I immediately snapped back to reality pretty fast. My heart began to race like a rabbit and I stood up from my seat and put my hand up to my face to make a shooshing gesture, but she just got worst. I tried, I desperately tried to calm her down. I even warned her! But she wouldn't stop, she just got more loud and even pushed me back in my seat and told me to shut up instead. Despite me not even saying a damn word to her. The police came, we new the secret was out after that, they took us in immediately, we never arrived at the police station, they had us admitted to Briarcliff as fast as possible. The rest of the story is history from there.
          Anyway, enough of her. There are so many people that are in here for the strangest of reasons.  Leigh Emmerson, the man who was arrested for taking bread and raped in jail and then went on a killing spree dressed as Santa after he was released. The alcoholic Miled who suffers from auditory hallucinations that tell him to kill himself on a daily basis. A small black haired girl named Jenny Reynolds who is suspected of killing her family amd playmate; she always gives that same description of the brown coated man when asked about it. Martha bangs her head against the wall constantly, surprised she doesnt have a concussion yet, Rudy is constantly masturbating no matter who is there or where he is. Daniel is deaf while Spivey is just this creepin ass pedophile.
          I could really go on, but I feel we would be here forever. I have to go to "cooking class" also known as bake bread for hours, in a few minutes any way. I still wonder though, why is Dr. Thredson just so ... different, from the rest. The thought of him dances around my mine constantly, but I guess won't find out till our next session together.

I'm in need of a savior, but I'm not asking for favors

My whole life, I've felt like a burden
I think too much, and I hate it

I'm so used to being in the wrong, I'm tired of caring

Loving never gave me a home, so I'll sit here in the silence

Silence by Khalid